“General,” said he, “excuse us; what we have done was for love of your honor, whom we thought lost.” “You are mad, gentlemen. Lost! Is a man like me to be lost? Am I not permitted to be absent, according to my pleasure, without giving formal notice? Do you, by chance, take me for a citizen from the city? Is a gentleman, my friend, my guest, to be besieged, entrapped, and threatened with death, because he is suspected? What signifies that word, suspected? Curse me if I don’t have every one of you shot like dogs that the brave gentleman has left alive!” “General,” said Digby, piteously, “there were twenty-eight of us, and see, there are eight on the ground.” “I authorize M. le Comte de la Fere to send the twenty to join the eight,” said Monk, stretching out his hand to Athos. “Let them return to camp. Mr. Digby, you will consider yourself under arrest for a month.” “General——” “That is to teach you, sir, not to act, another time, without orders.” “I had those of the lieutenant, general.” “The lieutenant has no such orders to give you, and he shall be placed under arrest, instead of you, if he has really commanded you to burn this gentleman.” “He did not command that, general; he commanded us to bring him to the camp; but the count was not willing to follow us.” “I was not willing that they should enter and plunder my house,” said Athos to Monk, with a significant look. “And you were quite right. To the camp, I say.” The soldiers departed with dejected looks. “Now we are alone,” said Monk to Athos, “have the goodness to tell me, monsieur, why you persisted in remaining here, whilst you had your felucca——” “I waited for you, general,” said Athos. “Had not your honor appointed to meet me in a week?” An eloquent look from D’Artagnan made it clear to Monk that these two men, so brave and so loyal, had not acted in concert for his abduction. He knew already it could not be so. “Monsieur,” said he to D’Artagnan, “you were perfectly right. Have the kindness to allow me a moment’s conversation with M. le Comte de la Fere?” D’Artagnan took advantage of this to go and ask Grimaud how he was. Monk requested Athos to conduct him to the chamber he lived in. This chamber was still full of smoke and rubbish. More than fifty balls had passed through the windows and mutilated the walls. They found a table, inkstand, and materials for writing. Monk took up a pen, wrote a single line, signed it, folded the paper, sealed the letter with the seal of his ring, and handed over the missive to Athos, saying, “Monsieur, carry, if you please, this letter to King Charles II., and set out immediately, if nothing detains you here any longer.” “And the casks?” said Athos. “The fisherman who brought me hither will assist you in transporting them on board. Depart, if possible, within an hour.” “Yes, general,” said Athos. “Monsieur d’Artagnan!” cried Monk, from the window. D’Artagnan ran up precipitately.